Yesterday, September 9, 2013,
India celebrated Ganesh Chaturthi, a Hindu festival celebrated across the central
and Southern India as the birthday of Ganesh, one of Hinduism’s most beloved
lower deities. Ganesh – also known as
Ganapati – is the elephant-head God, son of Lord Shiva and Parvathi. As the “remover of obstacles,” Ganesh is prayed
to for blessings of good luck and for help in overcoming difficulties
throughout the journey of life. Ganesh
Chaturthi is celebrated differently according to region. In Karnataka, on the day of Ganesh Chaturthi,
each Hindu family buys a clay, hand-carved and painted Ganesh idol and displays
it in an area of their home devoted to puja ceremonies. Doing so is said to invite Ganesh into one’s
home, where he stays as the center of worship for 9 days. In exchange for their daily offerings of
incense, fresh flowers, and devotion to Lord Ganesh, the Hindu family is
believed to be graced with his blessings.
On the ninth day, traditional religious ceremonies are conducted and the
Ganesh idol is immersed in a natural body of water where his divine essence
returns to the Earth as the clay disperses in the water.
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| © Rebecca Delekta |
Although the festival is
primarily celebrated in the home, like most other Hindu festivals, Ganesh
Chaturthi is also publicly celebrated on a grand scale. In Mumbai, where this festival is most
elaborate, the clay Ganesh idols scale as high as twenty-five feet requiring
the strength of a dozen men for its immersion into the Arabian Sea. Millions of people flood into parts of the
city to participate in the festivities.
In Bangalore, weeks prior to the event, goods trucks that look like tiny
auto rickshaws converted into goods carriers can be seen traveling all avenues.
Ganesh idols carefully wrapped in
plastic, neon colors still evident beneath cloudy covers. Men and women hoping to make extra income arrange
for several dozen idols from handicraft workers, and display them in order of
size atop wheeled carts for purchase off the street. On the day of the celebration, local temples
set up ornately decorated abodes to house their own Ganesh idols. Individuals on the street stop and pray,
providing offerings of jasmine flower garlands, coconuts, and bananas.
Over the years, as the
business of idol making grew, new materials other than clay, and brighter, more
vivid paints began to be heavily utilized.
Ironically, the act of worshipping a beloved deity and participating in
a major cultural event celebrating life has subsequently resulted in an
environmental issue. The millions of
Ganesh idols immersed into India’s major water bodies have created heavy water
pollution; lead and mercury amongst other heavy metals and poisons leach into
water, which result in sedimentation, the poisoning wildlife and degradation of
fragile ecosystem health. Each year in
Bangalore, a city already struggling with an inadequate and polluted water
supply, the issue grows worse. For years
now, environmentalists and activists throughout the country have waged an awareness
campaign to effectively curb the pollution by encouraging individual homes to
purchase eco-friendly idols that are created according to traditional
practices: hand-carved out of natural clay, and adorned with natural paints
like red earth and turmeric powder.
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| © Rebecca Delekta |
This year, Sanjeev and I
found a skillfully crafted natural Ganesh idol at our local mall’s grocery
store. For 500 rupees we happily
escorted our eco-friendly Ganesh home and displayed him on our puja counter. His presence is so welcomed in our home that
I refuse to let him leave. There will be
no immerse or dispersion for this fellow despite being no threat to the
environment.
In celebration of Ganesh
Chaturthi this year, we decided to join a group of friends who planned to visit
the evening puja ceremony at Raggiguda mandir
located in Jayanagar. On the drive over,
the streets were eerily vacant, evidence that a large portion of Bangalore’s
residents returned home to their respective states to celebrate the festival
elsewhere. Despite the significantly
lower population, Jayanager was alive and brilliant with the senses of
life. Through a sudden mess of traffic, and
crammed down as smaller side street, we finally catch sight of towering
entrance gate to the festivities, warmly lit and portraying deities. A plastic banner with Kannada text apparently
identifies it as the local Ganesh Chaturthi celebration. We park in the lot of the huge Central mall next door, its walls and
entrance over-lit with harsh florescent lights.
The busy mall stands in contrast to the gate, modern and traditional
India existing side by side.
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| © Rebecca Delekta |
We make our way through the
side street, blocked off to traffic and littered with people and small side
stands selling food, idols, and small trinkets.
At the end of the road, we finally come to the temple grounds and its
tall gates. Seeing it, I now recall
having been to this temple before, in 2010 with my friend Balaji who used to
accompany me on outings to see some of Bangalore’s best temples. Memories like photographs pop into my mind,
and I remember the second temple at the top of the large rock hill, and sitting
inside, lotus pose, absorbing the positive energy on a monsoon afternoon much
less populated by devotees. Amidst the
other people dressed in their nicest outfits, Sanjeev and I slip off our
sandals, place them in a woven bag, exchanging the bag for a token from a man
who carefully files the footwear away during our visit to the temple. The grounds are filled with devotees,
families and friends gaily talking and moving single file through the maze of a
walkway that leads one around the grounds and up to the temples built on top of
the rock mountain, wet with the afternoon’s rain. The daylight is fading and I have to push my
camera’s sensitivity to its highest ISO in order to capture the scenes before
me. Waiting for the line to move, I
watch people posing for pictures taken with mobile phones before a manmade
waterfall carved into the mountain rock, painted and complete with idols. We move slowly, the ground is wet and cold on
my bare feet, and I try not to pay attention to the grit and wet leaves
sticking to them. As we move up the ramp
walkway, I see that I am the only white person amongst hundreds of Hindus. But in my new and elaborately colorful kameez suit outfit, complete with all
the dressings right down to the toe rings, I am comfortable, a misfit perhaps,
but an expert at being so. We wind
through the maze, and I feel as though we are in a line at an amusement park
waiting to try out a new ride.
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| © Rebecca Delekta |
After about ten minutes of
foot traffic, we finally arrive at the entrance to the temple. We give 100 rupees donation to a man sitting
at a glass table, who types the amount into a little calculator which spits out
a small receipt. The donation sponsors
the rice the temple acquires for the next day’s prasada – the food offerings to the poor from the Gods. People push past me in the line, anxious to
perform the darshan – the viewing of
the Gods in idol form. Finally at the
end of the walkway in the center of it all, we are instructed to take two large
red fabric bags of rice. We carry it
over to a bronze metal idol of Goddess Annapoorneshwari
– the Goddess of food. We wait for our turn amongst the people crowding around
her, each in turn, dumping their own bag of rice at her feet. One by one, they empty their bags, the
tinkling sound of dry rice flowing down the statue and into a large
barrel. I manage to push my way to the
front and dump my rice feeling rushed and overwhelmed in the room. We turn back to the primary idol, of Ganesh
of course, give a monetary gift to the
aarti tray, and run our hands through the diya flame, covering our eyes for
blessings of insight and enlightenment from the Gods.
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| © Rebecca Delekta |
Upon leaving the temple, we are again herded
into another walkway that leads to marble stairs carved into the mountainside,
and up to the temple at the peak. I hold
on to the railings as I climb, avoiding puddles, and feeling the threat of leg
cramps as we move. At the height of the climb,
we enter an even more densely crowded temple that houses the idols of Shiva,
Rama, and Hanuman, the three idols placed strategically around the corners of
the temple, with Hanuman, the monkey God at the center. Moving in line again, I watch an elderly lady
wound in a peach color sari no taller than four feet, perform her prayers, moving
swiftly despite her age. We pay our
respects to Shiva first, moving single file down the hallway that circles the
idol, and do the same for Rama, where we catch up to the small aunty and watch
as she prostrates before the idol. The darshan complete, we slowly head down
the marble stairway, stopping to stretch my cramping legs.
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| © Rebecca Delekta |
During our lengthy expedition
to the two temples, the sun has given way to dusk, and in the quickly failing
light, I attempt to catch some shots of the temple’s features. At the bottom of the rock mountain we
gradually follow the flow of people to a courtyard area decorated with
multicolor strands of lights. Small
benches line the area in rows, and we watch individuals enter the courtyard
from the entrance path carrying their Ganesh idols, ringing small bells to
awaken the spirit of Ganesh as they walk.
Each family places their idol on the bench, lights incense, and an oil
lamp, and begins to perform their personal puja to invite the spirit of Ganesh
into the idols. I watch two elderly men
wrapped in a traditional white cloth perform their ceremony, snapping their
photos from a distance.
As darkness settles in,
Sanjeev and I sit on a granite ledge lined with plants and wait for the rest of
our absent party to show. Over time, the
flow of families bringing their idols for awakening increases, and the air
begins to crackle with energy. The idols
come in all sizes, some fitting in the palm of the hand, others need to be
carried by two or more people. We take
note of the small amount of people using the natural clay idols, most everyone
has purchased the neon colored, chemically laden statues.
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| © Rebecca Delekta |
In droves, they march down the entrance
walkway, the sound of hundreds of bells overwhelming and accompanied by the
sharp beat of hand drums. Young men and
children happily shout phrases in Kannada honoring Ganesh, running alongside
the person who has the honor of escorting the God. A father yells in Kannada “Il nodi Ganesha!” (Look! here is Ganesha!)
His children yell back, “Al nodi Ganesha!” (Look there is
Ganesha!) “Ellakadi Ganesha!” (Ganesha
is everywhere!) Others yell in Hindi, “Ganesh Maharaj ki jai ho” (Hail the
king Lord Ganesha!). Tonight, women don their
most beautiful silk saris reserved for special occasions, their array of
tantalizing rainbow colors still evident in the lamp lit night. Their little girls follow them down the path,
clad in heavily adorned and glittering ethnic wear, attempting to keep their
dresses off the dirt ground so as to not trip.
Each family makes their way through the swarm, their festive spirits
adding to the positive energy. The
sounds of the pujas, the riot of colors, the smell of burning incense on the
moist cool air, the movement of every individual, all coalesce, creating a sea
of life. With each passing moment, the
river of people increases, joining the tides of energy. I remain seated in awe of the intense
cultural moment I am experiencing, a persistent smile of enjoyment on my
face. I absorb the energy, feeling as
though my skin might glow with its life seeping into me. There is no place I would rather be at this
moment, and I remain there, immersed in the tide of sentience.
